


Romantic

by unsettled



Category: Sherlock Holmes (2009)
Genre: Anniversary, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-07
Updated: 2011-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-15 12:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Henry's not exactly what one would call a romantic, but some days are special nonetheless.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Romantic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_me09](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=the_me09).



> Written at ohgodwhathourisit for a the_me09 in need of cheering.

Henry's not exactly what one would call a _romantic_. To be sure, he's carefully made certain to keep track of the days Coward deems important - although he'll forever be at a loss as to why half of them _are_ important, but he doesn't dare ask; if he does, Coward will stop whatever he is doing and turn to him, slowly, eyes wide and worried, to say quietly, "But don't you remember, Henry?", and when he remains clueless for once in his life, Coward's eyes will begin to turn wet, and his shoulders will slump, and he will turn back to what he was doing with a weary, saddened sigh. "Never mind, Henry," he'll say, and refuse to elaborate on why he's in such a state. Henry will do a great deal to avoid that particular kind of confrontation.

But he's careful to remember these dates, if not the reasons behind them, and provide the appropriate gift - be it flowers, a special dinner out, some token of his esteem wrought in fine metal and gems, or simply a good hard fucking (the easiest by far). He remembers, because although they mean little to him - they mean a great deal to Coward, and Coward's happiness means more to Henry than anything.

This day, however, this day is not on Coward's list. This is a day that _Henry_ will always remember, though. And he can't deny the amusement in his voice when he responds to Coward's bewildered look at the finely set table, "Why, Nicholas, don't you remember?" Coward doesn't, of course, and he blushes, the most alluring sight; Henry has to fight to keep his hands off Coward at that moment.

Or maybe he doesn't. After all - he indulges, takes Coward's hand and presses his lips to the back of it, turns it over and whispers into his palm, "You should remember, Nicholas."

Coward blinks. "I-"

Henry doesn't allow him to speak. He silences him with a kiss, and then, a moment later, silences him with small bites of out of season fruits, straight from his fingers. Coward sighs, leans back against him, and gives in to Henry's whims. They fall into a slow, hazy state of contentment, and it isn't until Coward turns his head to chase after Henry's fingers that the build of desire begins; Henry catches Coward's chin and turns it toward him, presses kisses into the finely haired line of his jaw. Coward half twists in his lap, eager for more. "No," Henry tells him, and before Coward can protest, scoops him right up and carries him to the bedroom.

If he has to stop and plant Coward's back against the wall in order to kiss him silent and pliant again a few times between the table and the bed, well, that's hardly a shame, now is it.

Sometimes, a good fucking is what Coward needs most, and while Coward is giving him that look that just begs for it, the want clear in his voice when he whines, quietly, that's not Henry's intention tonight. He wants to draw Coward out, tease him, not quite torment him, until he's nothing more than a mindless creature devoted wholly to sensation, pleasure, desire, black eyed and open mouthed, spread, limp, sheened with sweet and unable to hold back any of those sweet little sounds that catch in his throat. He doesn't want him begging; he'll silence any attempt Coward makes. This isn't something Coward has to ask for, should ask for. This is simply what Henry wants to give him, right now, today.

When he's relearned every inch of Coward's body with fingertips and kisses, when he's taken pity on Coward's near drunken want and sated himself on the scent of Coward's skin, when he's made Coward come into his mouth, come clutching at the sheets, with a stuttering, broken _Henry_ , then, then, he will draw Coward into his arms and lick at the salt sweet dampness on the back of Coward's neck, while Coward shivers, and tell him, whisper to him, punctuate his words with the slow mouthing of Coward's skin, the slow slide of his hands over Coward's body, "Today, today, so long ago today was the first time I saw you."

And Coward will catch his breath, and shudder, and turn in Henry's arms until he can raise his eyes to Henry's, and respond with words as simple as _I love you_.


End file.
